Pining For The Past
by AllMonstersRHuman
Summary: When you can't let go and you can't move on you end up stuck like a broken-down car on the side of a road. Aging but never changing. Watching as the rest of the world passes you by. She longs for someone who went to join the angels beyond the pine-tips. Her life is dedicated to silently watching over another woman's son. All for him. All because she can't stop pining for the past.


**Author's Note: **_This fic fluctuates between the past and present while telling two different storylines. I'll always strive my best to transition in a descriptive way when the OC is taking us into the past. But just for precaution the first paragraph in a 'past' sequence will be in italics. Partly because I use lines to break up scenes sometimes, not just to distinguish the jump between past and present. I'm not putting the past parts entirely in italics because I find txt annoying/sometimes hard to read like that._

* * *

"Ay dude, the freak is lookin' at you again."

Jason's head snaps up, automatically looking for the weathered bleach blonde AJ is referring to.

There she is leaned up against the side paneling of the Dairy Dip. Smoke trailing out of her mouth with her black lenses trained on him. Her shaded stare is unwavering, unashamed and unabashed as she's caught in the act. Only to be broken by a grubby burnout approaching her for a business transaction.

"I..I don't wanna do this. She gives me the creeps. You do it." he grumbles, shoving the money into AJ's hand as they pause at the stoplight.

"Whatsa matter with you? She aint gonna bite yo. Sides. She won't sell ta me, I already tried." he insists, roughly shoving the cash back at the lighter boy.

When Jason refuses to take it he resorts to intimidation, taunting him into doing it.

"Whaterya scared a her 'cause she's eyein' ya? Dude don't be a fuckin' pussy, cougars are hot. I'd fuck 'er."

The deal is done and Jason can feel her eyes on him again. When he looks up sure enough the green-armed glasses are pointed towards him again. AJ's right. She's not that bad looking for a chick over thirty. But then again she doesn't exactly look her age with all that ink. Or the ratty barely there clothes hanging off her slender frame.

"Why the fuck you always gotta do shit like this to me man?" Jason grumbles, pocketing the cash while trying to slow his thundering pulse.

Jason thinks of the first time he could remember seeing the mysterious whiteyellow-haired woman. His earliest memory of her.

Being in line at the Super Saver with Kofie and his mom. She'd been staring at him just the same way from one register line over. He'd only been six and remembered looking up at her in awe, staring straight back into those black squares. Wondering if she was some kind of angel sent down to watch him with her big dirt-caked boots and blinding halo locks. He'd smiled up at her, taking not even a step forward before his mother had yanked him back with a dirty look thrown the woman's way.

And now here he was, about to buy drugs from the lady his mother had warned him never to talk to. The one she told him was wild and dangerous and crazy.

"What you know about her?" he monotonously asked, still sucked into the gripping pull of her stare as they waited for red to turn green.

"Not much… Pops told me ta away from 'er. Ha, fuck that she's got the best chronic in town. Heard some shit here an there though… Guess way back she was some kinda circus freak, roamin' town ta town with a fair. Heard she was mixed up in some bank heists but the pigs could never pin nothin' on 'er.. I also heard she went after the fuckin' doughnut muncher who killed 'er partner an made his life hell. Tried ta say the cop shot 'em fer no reason." AJ rambled, taking drags off his smoke in between each bit of gossip.

He took in the bits and pieces AJ had to offer through a fog as he stayed in link with her. Every time he saw her it was the same. Even though her mouth was always neutral and her eyes were always hidden he felt she was waiting on him. Waiting for him to do something. Waiting for him to make something happen. And every time he couldn't look away once he gave in. Which was why whenever he was in town with his family and a flash of white caught his eye, he kept his gaze on his shoes.

Soon those shoes were carrying him over the stripes of the crosswalk on their own accord. Bringing him closer and closer to something he'd felt for many years was inevitable. As they neared tattoos he'd always been too far away to make out came into focus more and more, gaining detail as his feet gained ground. There were so many he couldn't choose which one to look at. The dagger on her cheekbone eventually won out of all the others once he was close enough. And before he knew it AJ was elbowing him to knock him out of his trance. He realized he was just standing there staring at her, finally close enough to smell the piney scent coming off her mixed with motor oil and marijuana.

"I..ah….we…." he stammered, botching the first words he'd ever said to her.

He'd imagined it a million different ways. What he'd say to her the first time he confronted the blonde ghost who'd haunted him for as long as he could remember. And it definitely didn't involve making himself sound like a stuttering chicken shit. But unfortunately his mouth was hanging open.

She pushed her shades up onto her head and her deep green eyes were bared to him for the first time. He'd always pictured them as blue for some reason. Another shove from behind made him try again as his crystal orbs were held captive by her emerald ones. Her dark sharply angled brows rose at him in expectation. And he could swear she had excitement streaking through her eyes though her expression remained unchanged.

"A..a-an eighth…please." he finally managed, tacking on the polite gesture at the end out of respect he suddenly felt he owed the stranger.

She didn't move or say a word but the vibe of elation coming off her died with his words. Her disappointed eyes swept over him a time or two before a sad slow lop-sided smile spread over her face. Making subtle laugh and age lines become more prominent on her tan skin. She shoved her half dead cigarette in her mouth. Letting it dangle in between her lips as she reached back into the messenger bag saddled on the side of her motorcycle.

The hand that extended toward him with a baggie concealed behind tattooed fingers read "handsome" with two letters on each knuckle. He reached out, engaging her in the traditional handshake used amongst dealers and customers. Her other hand clasped the back of his, encasing his limb in both of hers as he read her other hand's message. "Luke". She gave him a light squeeze as he took his product and transferred the money to her palm.

Her touch felt familiar and light. Like something he'd known all his life. As he reluctantly pulled away she gripped his wrist last second, slipping the money into his overflowing hand.

"It's on the house kid, jus don tell your friend." she murmured with another smile, letting him go with an air of finality as her skin left his and her shades were slid back into place.

Her voice was higher than he'd imagined it, soft and feminine but harsh at the same time. Like she'd just smoked a pack of cigarettes and washed them down with honeyed whiskey. A little hoarse and a little whispery all at once.

Jason pocketed the paraphernalia, hesitating as he took half a step backwards. He'd spent so much time wondering who she was, now he could ask her. But all the questions he had were frozen in his throat. He just stood there. Staring at her while she flung her cigarette aside and readied to mount her bike. Leaving her post like he was the one thing she'd been waiting on all day.

"Sweet ride. Who's Handsome Luke and The Heartbreakers? Some kinda faggot boy-band?" AJ snorted with a laugh, moving to look at the detailing as her combat booted foot perched on the kick-start pedal.

"He's ma guardian angel. The rest aint important." she informed them with a sad smile before bringing the bike to a roaring start, speaking to the wide blue eyed boy rather than the one who'd asked before rolling away.

Jason watched her go, rooted to the spot. Not responding to the geeked-up jackass beside him until she was well out of sight and the dull echo of her motor in the distance faded from his ears.

* * *

Robin's grayed head perked up from the engine he'd been working on when he heard an angry one tearing up the drive. She was cutting it so close he flinched as her front tire stopped a foot short of the workbench. When the rumble cut he could hear her taking in deep gasping breaths. Even over the chorus of barking dogs. As if the wet trails leaking from the bottom of her sunglasses didn't already clue him in on her emotional distress. He got up cautiously, not sure if he needed to comfort or restrain her. Coming closer as an actual sob broke from her lips.

"Wuts-" he began, trying to figure out what was going on.

"_He_ talked ta me taday." she blurted out, her face cracking into a bipolar smile as she continued to cry, letting out a laugh in between pulls for air. "He don sound nothin' like 'em but goddamn he got his daddy's eyes."

Robin sighed a breath of relief, happy to know a meltdown wasn't in the imminent future. He slapped her on the back in a fond gesture a time or two before leaving his hand there to rub back and forth. A grimace colored his aged face when he looked down to see grease stains left behind on her shirt. He'd hear an earful for that later.

He stepped back as she dismounted, giving her a small reassuring smile while she gave one much the same back to him.

"Want me to getcha a beer?" he asked softly, knowing an event of that magnitude had probably taken a lot out of her in terms of restraint.

"Nah I'll get one maself after I get offa the phone." she declined over her shoulder as she headed for the workshop phone with a hurried purposeful step.

She stabbed at the numbers as anger replaced her bittersweet happiness. There was a brief tussle with the knotted cord on her end before the call was answered.

"Hey, be a sweetheart and tell yer mom she's gotta phone call." she requested with a soft tone, giving an answer when the mocha-skinned girl on the other end asked whom she should say was calling. "Tell 'er it's Angel."

She dug in the pocket of her jeans while she waited and listened to the Hispanic music playing somewhere in the background. Producing her half crushed pack of smokes as a crash was heard and a Spanish profanity was yelled. Thunderous angry footsteps grew louder as her desired person approached the phone and she lit her cigarette.

"What do you think you're doing? Huh? Calling the house like this, giving my daughter your name!" came a pissed off feminine voice over the line that made guilt flash across her tattooed face.

"I know, I know. 'M sorry but it's important. I seen 'em in town taday. He was with the Cross kid." she quickly got out, hoping to get her point across before she got hung up on.

"So what? It's none of your concern who _my_ son hangs out with! You need to get over the past and move on." Romina snapped into the receiver, looking around nervously to make sure she wasn't being overheard.

The peroxide-blonde winced at the mention of her inability to let go.

"Rom please, this aint about that. The kid is bad news, besides what could come out if his dad decides to grow a conscience. Jason don need to be hangin' round 'em. He's a bad influence." she reasoned, shoving her shades up to wipe away a fresh tear.

"Yeah, you know all about bad influences don't you, _Angelface_." the Latino woman sneered, guilt and satisfaction rolling through her in harmony as the quiet sniffle of snot being sucked back up was heard from the other end.

Angel's eyes squeezed shut as the nickname sent a deep aching bolt of sorrow through her.

"Why you gotta be like that? I jus want what's best for the kid." she choked out, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking.

"If you really want what's best for him you'd leave like you should have after Luke _died_." came the cold reply, like an ice pick stabbing her right in the heart. "You will never be a part of _my_ son's life and it is none of your business who he spends his time with."

Robin jumped when a wrench was thrown against the cinderblock wall of the garage. He could see her face turning a violent shade of red from his place behind the workbench. The way her hand shook as it kept the handset held up to her head.

"Don fuckin' say that, don say it like he _jus_ died. He was murdered an you fuckin' know it!" she roared, getting her last sentence in with a growl. "You do somethin' about that Cross punk 'er I will."

When a dead line was the reply she got she slammed the phone into its receiver. She stood there staring at the abused communication device, zoning out so long the cherry to her cigarette went dead. Tears silently running down her face while horrible final memories flashed through her mind.

Robin's curse at dropping a cylinder on his foot snapped her out of it, bringing her back into the miserable present. In between hopping on one foot and swearing up a storm he watched her trudge over to the fridge. An ancient junker from the fifties that had faded yellow paint and was mostly covered by black greasy fingerprints. She looked defeated, her boots barely picking up off the ground as she shuffled across the garage. When she opened the creaking door and just stood there staring at the brown-glassed bottles he made a suggestion.

"Jack's in the freezer."

Her head nodded slowly and she procured the square bottle from the icebox, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig straight from the source.

"Got some coke in the house you can chase it with if ya want." he called out to her retreating back, only getting a shooing hand thrown over her shoulder as she ambled toward her trailer.

She stopped at the door. Realizing that going inside wasn't such a good idea at the moment. Mostly on account of the photos and news clippings lining her limited wall space. Instead she threw herself down onto a broken couch not far from her trailer steps. One of the few pieces of ragged furniture arranged in a circle around a fire pit. She took another pull from the bottle and resurrected her smoke with a flick of her lighter.

As she laid her head back and watched clouds dance beyond the pines she let herself go back to a happier time. The only place she could see him alive again. In her memories of the past.

The adrenaline-filled screams of riders being flung into the air by machinery. The smell of sweet cotton candy and vomit mixing together. The flash of bright colored lights beckoning more customers to come spend their hard earned money.

All she had to do was imagine it and she was right back there again in her simple country dress. Virgin skin untouched, yet to be broken by a needle and filled with black everlasting beauty. Hair as dark as the day she'd been born.

* * *

_The place she'd grown up in was a tiny town in Midwest America. Just a speck in a state full of rolling crop fields. Inconsequential, unimportant, and painfully boring to boot._

That's why when flyers for a summer carnival had been put up in the town square for the first time, the residents were all but ecstatic. It wasn't just a fair with rides and games either. Some posters depicted circus acts and freak shows. But one paper advertisement had especially caught her eye.

It was a simple black and white printout advertising a trio of daredevil motorcyclists. But the unfocused image of the group's frontman is what'd captivated her. The cocky lopsided grin, the tattoos, the way he just screamed "bad idea" with every aspect of his being right down to his ripped rock & roll shirt.

She stood there with her jaw hanging open and her heart threatening to pound right out of her ribs, completely enthralled by the flyer. Until she overheard her father saying his goodbyes to the hardware cashier. She resented him for running out of fishing stories and forcing her away from the poster. If he caught her looking at something like that she'd get the belt. Or the bible. Depending on his mood.

But as good 'ol Mr. Mcdougal enticed her father back with a set of free fishing lures as a gift between pals, she suddenly got a devious urge. Without a second thought for the person who'd painstakingly printed and put it up she grabbed the corners of the advertisement, carefully peeling it off the wood paneling of the hardware store. Her heart was pounding double time as she hurriedly peeled the tape from its backing and folded the forbidden find. She'd turned her back towards the door and was shoving the contraband into her bra with panic racing through her veins as her father exited the store.

"Angelina I done told ya ta stay in the truck!" he reprimanded in a stern tone, though she wasn't five feet from the truck's front bumper.

She jumped and spun around, hoping his all-seeing eyes couldn't see the square firmly squeezed between her breast and the meager padding of her undergarment. Her mossy eyes cast downward and she clasped her hands in front of her, trying to look as remorseful and innocent as possible.

"Forgive me daddy, I jus wanted ta stretch ma legs an get some fresh air." she lied, taking extra precaution to go around the opposite side of the truck to reach her door, sure he wouldn't dare strike her in public but not willing to risk it.

He gave her a scathing glare and moved on to deposit his purchases into the truck's bed, making her dread what was to come. Her father climbed in, turning the key and turning down the music before addressing her.

"Ya want fresh air, ya crack the window. Ya wanna stretch yer legs, too damn bad. None a them pecker-head boys need ta be seein' ya stretchen' them legs." he scolded her, pointing an intimidating finger in her face as he did so. "You best not disobey me again, else there aint gonna be no more trips inta town for ya."

"Yes daddy." she meekly agreed, hanging her head as expected for a shamed young lady.

But on the inside she was smiling. She'd gotten what she wanted. And it seemed her father was in a good enough mood that she wouldn't even have to pay with any pain to get it.

In the weeks leading up to the fair she was on her best behavior. She did all her chores plus a little more. She sat up straighter and was more attentive at church. She didn't speak up when she disagreed with something. She tried to be perfect in every way. And her father noticed. He also had a pretty good idea why.

Though she was putting on her best face in the light of day, at night she indulged herself. When she was sure her father was passed out drunk she'd slip the poster from underneath her mattress. Staring at his face until she could scarcely keep her eyes open. Imagining what his voice sounded like. What color his eyes were and if they sparkled with mischief. How his riding-gloved hand might feel on her skin. The wanton worm of desire was wriggling its way into her heart and she didn't even care.

As the date she'd been anticipating approached she dreaded asking for permission. Angelina knew it'd take nothing short of a miracle for her father to say yes. Which was why that morning she'd cooked all his favorite breakfast foods, right down the grits he fancied on his toast. They ate in silence and the anxiety of it all made her small hand shake a bit each time she raised her fork to her mouth.

"D-daddy I…I've been wantin' ta ask ya somthin'-"

"No, you may not go to the carnival." he flatly cut in, his daughter's hopeful face crumpling into devastation not phasing him as he continued eating.

She sat back in her chair. Fighting back angry tears as she tried to form an argument. She should have known that'd be the outcome. But she'd been so excited and hopeful she'd somehow convinced herself that he'd have mercy on her just this once.

"I never ask for new clothes, or games, or books. You won't let me wear makeup like the other fifteen year old girls. I'm not allowed to wear dresses above the knee. Or pants. I'm not allowed to listen ta anythin' besides gospel music. I'm not allowed ta watch tv less it's one a yer sports games. I'm not allowed ta talk ta boys. And because a the way you want me ta be alla the girls at school make fun a me. I don have any friends. I'm not allowed ta go inta town alone. Heck I aint even allowed ta leave the end a the driveway alone!" she ranted, watching as her father's face became increasingly enraged at her complaints.

"But I understand. The world is a horrible sinful dirty place. And I know yer jus tryin' to protect me daddy. Thank you." she added, relieved to see her father give a nod in return once he realized where she'd been going with her fit.

"Which is why I was gonna ask if ya'd take me ta the carnival. If ya go with me ya can see ta it first hand that I don get inta any trouble. And it's been so long since we did somethin' together sides watchin' fooball. We haven't done nothin' fun since mama…" she trailed off, her eyes dropping down to her napkin as renewed grief swept through her.

When she heard his fork scraping against the plate she pulled herself together and continued pleading her case.

"I jus wanna go watch a couple shows, maybe play a game er two. The rides on the posters look too dangerous." she reasoned, adding in that last part to please her father with false meekness.

"An you wouldn' haveta pay for nothin'. I been saving up the money Father Matthews pays me for cleanin' the church. Please daddy, this can be ma birthday and Christmas present!" she begged, widening her eyes and trying to persuade him with a bit of a pout.

She watched him lean back in his chair, studying her young face for deceptions. Rubbing a knuckle along his chin hairs as he thought about it. She'd never prayed harder in her life than in that short moment.

"We'll go on Sunday evenin'." he gruffly muttered, brushing her off when she jumped up to hug him and thank him graciously.

She cleared their dishes with a choir song humming in her throat. As she collected her father's plate the uplifted tilt of his cheek hidden behind his morning paper hinted at the first smile he'd let out in years. She almost felt guilty. Almost.

* * *

Her limbs flailed out naturally at being shaken awake, her right boot making contact with something before she heard a pained groan and the sound of someone dropping to the ground. Angel opened her eyes to find she'd fallen asleep sometime during her reminiscing. The chilled night air had her wide awake now but she found herself a bit fuzzy from the whisky's lullaby.

"What tha fuck Rob." she grumbled when her blurry eyes focused and Robin's flashlight illuminated him on the ground clutching his crotch.

"Was listenin' to the police scanner, heard 'em.." he paused, trying to breathe and talk through the pain as he sat up. "Heard 'em call in yer boy's name. He got caught with your shit on him. Thought you'd wanna know."

She let out a deep sigh, wincing as she got up, her weary bones cracking here and there. Knowing she'd failed the man up above she'd made a silent promise to a long time ago. She was supposed to look out for Luke's genetic legacy and protect the kid. Not get him arrested.

"Fuck."

Robin ambled after her the best he could with a limp, seeing disastrous outcomes in his imagination.

"Just what do you think you're gonna do?" he called out as her leg swung over the seat of her bike. "Storm in there guns blazin' to break the kid outta jail?"

"Raise some hell, break some balls, whatever I gotta do." she yelled back, racing off toward town before he could hobble over there and try talking some sense into her.


End file.
